Page 31 of Stolen Goods
Addy shot to her feet with a gasp, palm gripping the top of her head. “I amnotdyeing my hair!” And in the back of her mind,Is Emma blonde? Is that his thing? I don’t care!
“I thought girls always wanted to be blonde?”
She crossed her arms. “Not this one.”
“Okay, fine. I can compromise. How about a cut?” He stepped forward, pulling at one of her curls and wrapping the end around his finger. Addy held her breath, chest turning tight from his nearness. “Ten inches should do the trick.”
“What?” She put both her hands against his chest—trying not to notice the firm muscles beneath her palms and failing miserably—and shoved him away. “You’re crazy. I’m not letting you touch my hair.”
Thad sighed, and a little flicker of something other than amusement passed over his irises. “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I promise. But bad people are looking for you, for us. This is real. This is happening. And I’m guessing you’ve had the same hair, the same clothes, the samelookfor your entire life. So, we have to change it. Because when Jo talks to her Fed, and they realize you’ve gone missing, your face will probably be on every news channel in America. You need to look a little less like, well, you. At least for the next few days.”
Addy petted the top of her head, running her fingers lovingly through her carefully maintained curls. He was right. Shehadhad the same hair and the same clothes and the same look for her entire life. And she’d thought about cutting her hair before, but every time she’d gone to the salon with the intention of changing it up, she’d chickened out. She was Addison Abbot—book nerd, helpless romantic, cake maker. She wasn’t one of those daring, confident girls who could strut around rocking a short bob, or a plunging neckline for that matter. A-line skirts and long, loose curls were sort of her thing. It was silly, maybe, the sort of thing a man wouldn’t understand. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to change.
“I have to?” she asked softly.
“Yup.” Short. To the point. Leaving no room to argue. “Luckily,” he continued, drawing out the word as he knelt, reached under the bed, and retrieved a small bag, “I have scissors.”
“No,” Addy demanded and shook her head, backing away.
He grinned the most mischievous grin she’d ever seen in real life, like the Grinch right after he’d stolen Christmas, and stepped forward.
“Absolutely not.”
He opened and closed the scissors twice.Snip. Snip.
“There’s got to be a salon—”
“No way,” he interrupted, closing in. “Takes too long and we’d be in close contact with too many witnesses. I’m all you’ve got.”
Her heart thundered.
The panic set in.
Addy wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
“I’ll be gentle,” he coaxed. “And quick.”
Lord help me. “Okay.”
His brows shot up as though he’d expected a bigger fight. Before she had the chance to change her mind, he put his hand against the small of her back and led her into the bathroom. A little pressure on her shoulder and Addy sank to a seated position on the edge of the tub. The mirror across from her was too big, too bright. It took up the whole expanse of the wall, and all she could see was her face and the utter terror written across it.
“I can’t watch,” she groaned and spun, placing her feet in the basin and presenting him with her back.It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.She clenched her hands together in her lap, staring as her fingers turned white.What does it say about me that I think I’m more terrified now than I was yesterday, surrounded by gunfire?
“Ready?”
“No.”
He wrapped his hand around her hair, bundling it into a ponytail, and—snip!
“You can’t cut it all at once!” Addy shrieked, about to spin around, but he grabbed her shoulders and kept her where she was.
“Now the worst is over,” he offered cheerfully, as though somehow that would make her feel better.
“Oh my God,” Addy moaned as she reached up to her shoulders, finding nothing but empty air. “Oh, it’s so short. Oh no. Oh God. Oh—”
“Shh,” Thad whispered, face close enough that his breath tickled her now-bare neck. “It’ll be okay. I’ve done this for Jo before. I have some idea of what I’m doing.”
“Why didn’t you say that before?”
